


in each other's orbit

by buckwheatsbitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, fred is dead lol sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:09:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckwheatsbitch/pseuds/buckwheatsbitch
Summary: elizabeth had just landed a new job, and just needed a place to stay. luckily, with a newly vacant room, george weasley might be able to provide just that.or alternativelyo ma gah... they were roomates...(also i think jk rowling is stinky and i don't support or agree with her views)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. the chariot

It has been said that everyone has a soulmate. Whether they’re a million miles away and you spend your entire life trying to find them, or the world hands them over to you on a silver platter, it simply doesn’t matter. The fact of the matter is, everybody has a soulmate; the words displayed across your left wrist come to prove it.

_Please don’t leave._

Elizabeth stares at her wrist. The words lay there in grey writing against her Elizabeth skin, taunting her. Friends have all gone on and on about how the romantic scenarios they imagined when thinking about how their soulmate will first say their phrases, exuberance and glee shining all over their faces. But if Elizabeth was really being honest with herself, she had always found the quote on her wrist to be quite morbid. From her perspective, it entailed a precedent heartache from the only other person in the world that shared her soul; the thought of which was devastating.

Luckily enough for Elizabeth, however, a person’s words were an extremely private and personal thing. Though she had heard plenty of her peers at school enthralled their friends with stories concerning the phrases on their wrist in the Dining Hall or in the Common Room, none would ever admit the material they were based upon. She would never have to share the tragedy of her hypothesised heartbreak.

It had been two years since she left school, and a year since the Battle of Hogwarts. She often reflected on the trauma that must’ve been inflicted on the students at that time, more over the appreciation she held for not being amongst them. It was a selfish thought, and knowing that it held truth built a deep well in Elizabeth’s heart, giving her an opportunity to hide the worst parts of herself inside.

Though her parents had beyond the means to support her for the rest of her life, Elizabeth lacked the intention to let them. Gratitude wasn’t the issue, of course. She was plenty grateful for the superfluous wealth that her family held for no discernable reason. It made her childhood splendid and comfortable. But it also kept her behind closed doors, forcing her to uphold a perfect image of something that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

In Hogwarts it was easier to pretend like she was normal, and blending in didn’t seem like as much of a professional sport as it used to. Elizabeth could bring normal textbooks, eat normal food, wear normal clothes on Hogsmeade trips. She could feel like a normal fucking person for nine months of the year, and then fade into oblivion for the other three.

As school came to an end, so did becoming a gawking show for her parents’ friends during summers and Christmas holidays. Elizabeth first moved into a small cottage on the bare outsides of Hogsmeade, as it was quiet. At first, the quiet was comforting; it helped her writing because it gave her space to think. Elizabeth could fill entire rooms with just her ideas, then walk out and leave them all there. Over lonely summers as a child, she had gotten particularly familiar with the sound of nothing but herself. Living alone only deepened that prospect.

But as summer flew by and winter snowed her in, Elizabeth soon came to realise that the cold would settle in her stomach, and hollow her from the inside out. Christmas had never seemed so lonely.

So, in the following spring she would apparate to Diagon Alley each weekend and look for work. On her fourth trip, Elizabeth had decidedly given up. ‘How the fuck is everyplace fully employed?’ she murmured to herself as she walked out the door of the third rejection of the day. And as if life couldn’t get any worse, it had started to rain.

Elizabeth ran through the streets of Diagon alley to avoid the rain, that of which only seemed to be getting heavier, and ended up on the doorstep of the Leaky Cauldron. She looked up at the massive door, marvelling at the golden light that peaked through the decorative window. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, Elizabeth was taken over by the sweet familiar scent of butterbeer and pub food. She looks around at the scene. Old drunks who have barely left the place since their first visit, families in for a good feed and too-drunk parents, scared seventeen year-olds having their legal drink as tradition holds; the usual.

Elizabeth takes a seat on a bar stool right in front of her favourite bartender, Seamus Finnigan. She sits down with a groan of annoyance, feeling the squelch of rain between her toes.

‘I take it your day was splendid.’ he chuckles as he slides me a pint. Over the last couple weeks, Seamus and El had fallen into quite the routine. She would come in exasperated after unsuccessfully soughting out jobs, looking for relief, and he would cut her off at 10pm so she could still apparate home safely. Though it had only been about a month, Elizabeth found this routine comforting. She could trust him to look out for her. It was nice to have a friend.

‘Oh, terribly wonderful,’ she sodded back. ‘Couldn’t have gone better, really.’ He laughed warmly in reply.

After the war, Seamus decided it was too hard to go back to Hogwarts for his Eighth Year. ‘I can understand that.’ El had said that night. He explained he took up a job here quickly, and had worked almost every night since. He had also told El details of the Battle of Hogwarts the first time she appeared at the Leaky Cauldron, but she was too drunk to remember. Or maybe she just didn’t want to listen to the tragedy.

She watched him wipe down the bench, with a smile one could’ve seen from space. ‘Do you find extreme amusement in my jobless suffering, or are you having a stroke?’ She smirked at him. His head shot up with a look of confusion.

‘What? No- well yes, actually I do find a substantial amount of amusement in your quest for employment, but I’m not having a stroke.’

‘What’re you so smiley for then?’ Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile with him. Seamus had that kind of smile.  
‘Dean is visiting on Tuesday.’ He says, and a pink blush forms across his cheeks.

Both Dean and Seamus were in the year below El in school, and had been best friends since first year. Well, of course, until Dean told him they were “in it together, until the end” during _the fucking Battle of Hogwarts_ , and Seamus’ wrist lit up like fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Turns out, Seamus had said his words in third year during Potions class. Since, Dean visited whenever school would let him, and they would spend their time together as if it were the last day on Earth. ‘Now that,’ El had told him upon hearing the tale, ‘is a fucking love story.’ And it was. Seeing them together felt like a privilege, to see two people so happy together.

Elizabeth studied her friend’s face; the way his mouth fit around words and the way he smiled into them when he talked. She quickly realised that if he was talking, she wasn’t listening.

‘-yeah, so you could have it if you want, you’d just need to find a place to live. Unless you’re fine with apparating each night.’ He stared back at her, as if awaiting reply.

‘Sorry, why am I moving? I stopped listening when you started talking about that boyfriend of yours.’ Elizabeth smirked at him. Seamus rolls his eyes.

‘Merlin, there’s little left from stopping me smacking you sometimes.’ He retorts. ‘I was saying that Ol’ man Barry retired on Thursday, so there’s a position here, if you wanted it. Well, actually it's already yours, so you have to-’

She flung her arms around him from over the bar, and began to plant kisses all over his face.

‘Oh, Seamus you’re amazing! Thankyouthankyouthankyou-’

‘Oh alright, you’re welcome. But you’ll have to find a place to live, afraid upstairs is chockers already. ‘Eard George Wealsey’s got a room, though.’ Seamus pushed distance between the two, until El was back on her side of the bench, then gestured across the room.

He was glowing under golden light. His face was contorted into a generous smile; a sight for sore eyes. He looked genuinely happy.

‘You should ask him about it.’ Seamus suggested, interrupting Elizabeth’s awe-binding stare.

A bit shaken, she replied ‘I don’t know, Seamus. He might not want some random girl living with him.’

‘Well, there’s no time like the present to find out,’ Seamus said, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Because he’s coming over here right now.’ He proceeded to nudge El around to look.


	2. wheel of fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short ahh sorry

‘Ol’ Finnigan! How are ya’ mate?’ George called out as he walked. Seamus’ face lit up, smiling that awfully golden smile.

‘As good as ever, Georgie,’ he called back, reaching out a strong hand for George as he approached the bar. ‘Or shall I call you Mr Weasley?’ Seamus grinned at his taunting, while the redhead let out a laugh.

‘That’d be my father, mate. Merlin, if anyone ever called me that seriously...’ His words drifted off, being taken over by an expression of complete amusement.

Elizabeth observed that George spoke gallantly, with ease and confidence. He rolled over words like they were designed to come out of his mouth. Every movement had purpose, swift and smooth. It was almost as though he were dancing; as though he were performing.

Then came the realisation that George was staring at her, like he had just noticed she was there.

‘And, uh, Seamus. Who is this?’ He said, without looking away from El’s face. His amber eyes flashed in the golden light of the room. She pretended not to notice.

‘Oh, right! George, meet Elizabeth Mayberry. She’s the Class of ‘97. And El, this is George Weasley, if you couldn’t tell.’ Seamus seemed quite proud of himself after this introduction. Elizabeth couldn’t tell why.

‘Wait,’ George exclaimed, sounding surprised. ‘As in Class of ‘97 at Hogwarts?’

Those eyes were on her again, but this time Elizabeth felt her lips curve into a smile. Maybe that was just an effect he had on people.

‘That would be the one.’ She said back almost gleefully.

‘I was in ‘96. Well, y’know, until Freddie and I left.’ He stumbled over his brother’s name. Elizabeth wished she never noticed. ‘How come we never met?’

‘I don’t know. I guess we were never really in each other’s orbit.’

‘Well, I wish we had been. You’re terribly pretty.’

At that moment, it clicked. He was drunk.

Still, a red-hot blush flooded Elizabeth’s face. She looked away shyly.

Seamus cleared his throat loudly. ‘El, didn’t you have something to ask George? Y’know, before he’s too far gone to remember.’

‘Is that right?’ George said, but his voice didn’t match his face. A hopeful tone yet a nonchalant expression. _That should be a crime_ , she thought.

She glared at Seamus, secretly hoping to sear a hole through his head. When that failed, she turned to George.

‘Uh, yes, actually.’ Elizabeth cleared her throat roughly, as if the action would bring courage. It did not. ‘Seamus told me you might need a roommate, is that still true?’ Her voice betrayed her, made it sound as though she was bargaining. She had never wanted to melt into the floor more.

‘Oh! Yes, I do. It’s been pretty quiet in the apartment for a while. I tried getting a cat,’ he said, beginning to chuckle. ‘But the things hated me so much I had to ship it off to Hogwarts. Gave it to Hermione as a birthday present.’

The trio laughed harmoniously. George turned his entire body towards Elizabeth and continued. ‘But, yeah, I have a free room. And I understand that we’ve known each other for about ten minutes, but I have a really good feeling you should take it.’

Elizabeth thought it might just be the firewhisky, but each second she spent around the redhead was another reason to uptake his offer.

‘C’mon,’ he drawled out his words. ‘Move in with the complete stranger you met at the Leaky Cauldron.’

‘Y’know, the more you talk, the more it sounds like a bad idea.’ she smirked at him. ‘And I don’t think we’re complete strangers, I know your name.’ It was her turn to draw out her syllables. ‘George Weasley.’


	3. ace of cups

Three days later, Elizabeth was back in Diagon Alley to begin moving into her future apartment.

  
And she had spent the last seventy-two hours dreading her existence. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want the job or a new place to stay. In fact, she found herself quite in need of a change of scenery; hence the entire endeavour. But the thought of moving in with a total stranger made her anxious. 

Because what if he thought her furniture was weird, or found her obscene amount of scented candles unsettling? What if he didn’t like the way she made tea, or the music she listened to? Not that it mattered. Elizabeth supposed she could just avoid him at all times; ensure they lived entirely separate lives apart from what was essentially just cohabitation. However, though he was definitely drunk, the way George looked at her that night in the Leaky Cauldron made her contemplate whether that was a path she even wanted to take. 

It was a cold and wet morning in Diagon Alley. The freezing wind bit at Elizabeth’s cheeks, and the paved roads were so slick whereas she had to concentrate not to slip. What a shit day to wear boots, she thought to herself. She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her jumper. 

As she followed the path back to the Leaky Cauldron, where George had asked to meet, she tried to picture her new living space. Elizabeth had no clue where the redhead lived, or what type of family he had come from. Merlin, she wasn’t even particularly sure what house he was in at school! The realisation that she was moving in with a complete stranger, in which she only knew by name and faint whispers through the halls of her days at Hogwarts, had come to. This train of thought did not help the previous anxieties of the last three days. 

She turned the corner of a familiar pet store, and saw George standing. He wore a maroon sweater, with a white shirt collar peeking out at his neck, and loose blue jeans. He seemed to be staring at a tree, facing away from her. For some inexplicable reason, Elizabeth felt her face flush. It was probably just the wind. 

El neared closer, and decided to announce herself. ‘George, hey!’ She hadn’t meant to sound so excited. 

His head flicked around, his hair swooshing softly as it went. A smile spread wide across his face. Her face blushed even further. The wind must have picked up. He extended out his arms, which Elizabeth now noticed were the length of rugby posts, and connected the two in a brief hug. She also noticed that he smelt of cinnamon and vanilla, and tried to abstain from drowning herself in the scent.

‘Hey,’ he said as he released her. ‘It’s nice to see you again. How are you?’

‘As good as ever. You?’

‘Excited. Nervous. I’ve spent the last three days drifting between extremes.’ he let out a tender chuckle. ‘What about you? How are you feeling about it?’ 

‘Oh, y’know, excited,’ she lied. Dishonesty had never really had an effect on Elizabeth’s conscience. ‘It’s been awhile since I’ve lived with anyone.’ 

‘Me too.’ George stared at the ground for a bit after that. Then his head shot up, like he had just remembered something important. However, when he spoke, his voice had no sense of urgency in it. ‘Ready for the walk?’

‘The walk?’

‘To the apartment, of course,’ He stated. _Of course the fucking apartment Elizabeth, are you stupid?_ ‘I thought we could get to know each other a bit more on the way.’ 

There was nothing Elizabeth desired less than to walk through the slippery streets of Diagon Alley with George. She tried her best to stop imagining herself tripping over while walking next to him. That would be enough for her to cancel the move completely. 

‘Oh right, of course. That sounds lovely.’ She should really quit lying to him. 

And with that, they were casually making their way down the road.

‘I can’t believe we spent all that time at school together, and we didn’t even know each other!’ he proclaimed, peering down at her sweetly. 

‘Well, in all fairness,’ she began, without thinking ‘I had heard about you and your brother. You two made quite a few scenes over the years.’

_Yeah, well done Elizabeth. Bring up his dead brother and the activities they’d do together. Bet he loved that_. Instead, he just looked back at her, eyebrows raised.

‘Oh, stop that! You’re making me blush.’ George smirked. She lightly scoffed back. 

‘Okay, okay-’ 

‘No, really, I feel famous. Nice to see Fred and I had fans.’ He flashed a devilish grin. Elizabeth swore she felt her heart palpitate. ‘Okay, but seriously. Why didn’t we meet? I would’ve never missed a face like yours.’ 

Right at that moment, Elizabeth made the executive decision to melt into the floor and die. That sentence alone had actually wiped her clean off the earth. It was as if he liked to see the blood rush to her face. She took a deep breath and focused not to stutter over her next words.

‘I think we lived very different lives at school,’ she explained.

‘Really?’ It sounded like a challenge.

‘Well, yeah. I mean, you were off setting fireworks in the Great Hall and giving third years Puking Pastilles before their exams and all of that glorious stuff. I guess I kinda just spent most of my time in the library.’

‘Not the library,’ he groaned sarcastically. ‘It’s no wonder we were strangers then, I don’t think I went in there once during my entire seven years.’ This made Elizabeth chuckle, as they turned the corner of a stone building.

‘You missed out, really. Madam Pince gave out pumpkin pasties on Wednesdays. Warm and everything.’ She grinned up at him. His hair was dancing in the wind, and his Adam's apple jumped up and down as he laughed. It was a sweet laugh, reminiscent of the one from that night at Leaky. Not that she noticed. 

‘So you were in Ravenclaw then?’ he asked. His honey coloured eyes stared into hers as they walked, and Elizabeth was sure her heart was inches from falling out her ass at any moment.

‘And what makes you think that?’ she rebuttled quickly, desperate to stop whatever the feeling was in her chest from spreading to her face. 

‘Well, I don’t know many people from Hufflepuffs who spent all their extra time in the Library.’ George smirked again. He seemed to like doing that. Maybe he only has three facial expressions. 

‘Okay, you got me there,’ she confessed. ‘I don’t even have to try to guess what house you were in.’ 

He raised his eyebrows again. ‘And why’s that?’ 

‘Only a Gryffindor would be so brave, and stupid, to pull that fireworks stunt right under Umbridge’s nose. It’s a dead giveaway.’ Teasing George was incredibly entertaining, even in small doses. At first, his jaw dropped, offended. Then, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Finally, his face landed on an amused expression, a devilish grin flashing quickly across it. 

‘I’m starting to think you must’ve been a real fan of my work back in school. Are you sure you’re not some obsessed stalker moving in with me to live out your creepy fantasies?’ His bronze eyes started deep into hers. _I’m not a stalker, but if you keep looking at me like that, I can’t promise a damn thing._

Before she could answer, George heeded to a stop. ‘Here we are.’ 

In front of the pair stood a tall purple-gray building with large orange window sills, one of which seemed to be inhibited by a giant robotic man, peering down at us and waving. The sign read: Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop.

Elizabeth tried her hardest not to look surprised. However, that’s a difficult task when you’ve recently been hit with the realisation that you are moving into a dead man’s bedroom above that same dead man’s shop. Apparently her attempt at looking completely normal had failed.

‘Seamus didn’t tell you about this part, did he?’


	4. the tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> move in day !!! also i can't tell if i hate this or not so if it sucks lmao sorry :)

Everything was much more intense inside the shop. The colours, the aromas, the growing impending sense that she was invading George’s private life. It felt like she was reading his diary while he was out. Maybe it was her nerves, but the tension between them felt thick and cold. Perhaps invisible inches of snow had positioned themselves between her and the redhead. Not that that made anything better. Elizabeth pushed herself to ignore it. 

‘Not open today?’ It was a weak attempt at an icebreaker. _The thought still counts though, right? Hopefully._

‘Nah,’ he replied nonchalantly, quickly shovelling, no, _bulldozing_ the imaginary snow-filled tension between them away. ‘Fred and I were never very fond of Mondays.’ He turned to her and gave her a lopsided grin. In return, her heart gave a particularly loud thump against her ribcage. 

‘Fair enough. I’m not much of a fan of the weekday myself.’ She gawked around at the different statues and toys, all looking mechanically dead. All the shelves were stocked with books and gadgets and sweets. One candy in particular caught her eye. Picking one up, she twirled it between her fingers and glanced over at George. ‘You gave one of these to my brother three years ago.’ 

He turned around completely, looking surprised she had even spoken. Then, he squinted like an old man in order to see whatever she was holding. When he realised that wouldn’t work, he begrudgingly walked over. After realising, his face relaxed once more. ‘Ahhh, a Puking Pastille. To get out of an exam I presume?’

‘You wouldn’t believe the trouble he got in. It was fucking hilarious. Umbridge was-’ 

Elizabeth’s head knocked back, and she felt a sudden blunt pain in her nose. Arms snaked around her waist, supporting her from behind. Her head felt quite light. Bringing her hand to her face, she came to realise there was quite a bit of blood on it. Too much blood for her liking, actually. 

She heard George muttering. Actually, he might have been talking to her. She focused on trying to listen, in the odd event that he would be.

‘-fuck sakes. Stupid bloody things zipping around everywhere. I’m so sorry, El. Can I call you El? Merlin, not the time, George. Just come a little closer, please.’ She swayed in his arms as a response, still clutching to her nose. _You can call me whatever you want. Call me Robert and I wouldn’t even mind._ What she really wanted to do was sleep. She had grown so tired over the last thirty seconds. El closed her eyes in an attempt to nod off. George wouldn’t have it. 

‘Nonononono, you need to stay awake,’ he urged, lightly tapping the side of her face.

‘Why,’ she groaned in response. 

‘You could be concussed, and I’m no bloody Madam Pomfrey. I can’t pull a miracle out of my ass if you die in your sleep.’ She giggled at that, which sent searing pain spread up the line of her nose. 

Soon enough, her limp limbs shared the job of carrying her up the height of the building, George taking on the other half of the challenge. Though they were barely doing any work, Elizabeth’s legs were growing tired. ‘Fucking hell, you have too many stairs.’ 

He grimaced. ‘Tell me about it. And focus on staying conscious for me, okay?’ His voice was extremely gentle, almost hushed. El found comfort in it. 

… 

Elizabeth was sitting on a lime green sofa, facing a grey brick fireplace. To her left was a bright orange recliner, and her right, a matching yellow one. _Interesting decorating choices, Weasley_. Across the mantle, she saw a small display of picture frames, most of which showing a dozen redheads. The morning clouds had cleared, and warm light shone through a rather wide window. She fidgeted with the bloody tissue in her hand. 

‘Not bleeding anymore?’ She looked to where the voice was coming from. George leaned against the wide arch that opened into the next room, appearing to be a kitchen. Elizabeth’s breath hitched at the sight of him. _Merlin, some people are put on this planet to lean._ She pretended it was out of surprise. 

‘Oh, I didn’t see you there. Um, no I’m not,’ she replied, trying to sound startled. _It’s almost like he just fucking pointed that out, dumbass._ He began walking towards her. She cleared her throat. 

‘So, I bought this,’ he said, gesturing to a wet cloth in his hand as he sat down. ‘To clean up all that dried blood on your face. Wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea about what went down here today.’ She let out a huff of amusement and reached for the cloth. Instead, he took a gentle hand to her face. ‘Now sit still.’ 

Elizabeth held her breathe, scared she would start hyperventilating if she didn’t. George carefully wiped the curve of her jawline, softly swiping across her chin. His hands were warm on her face, his eyes focused perfectly on her lips. 

‘So,’ he said without removing his eyes from their current position. ‘Enjoying your stay so far?’

Her mouth formed a grin. It seemed to do that whenever he talked to her. It was definitely some sort of effect he took on people. She didn’t seem to mind, though. ‘Oh yeah, breaking my nose is actually a requirement I have before I move in places.’

‘Yeah?’ He raised his eyebrows. Another challenge. He wiped her cupid's bow. 

‘Oh totally! I’m really glad you could fulfill it in the first five minutes.’ 

George turned his head away to laugh, collapsing into her shoulder, but not quite touching it. She giggled along with him, praying to every god he couldn’t tell that her intestines were knotting themselves into bows. He never took his hand away from her face. 

When the laughter had subsided, George looked back up to Elizabeth, a wide grin occupying his face. ‘Maybe you’re right, I should’ve gone into the library more. I’ve been missing out on this for far too long.’ he said.

Once again, a single sentence had sent El’s heart into a frenzy, manically north-poling between beating _way_ too fucking fast, or just completely stopping. She ignored it.

‘Missing out on what?’ 

‘How much of a dickhead you are.’ He cracked up again, leaning too close to let her heart function as it should. 

‘Oh, sod off! Let me know next time you see a hockey puck flying at my face.’ She jokingly pushed his body away in exasperation. He fell back on his elbows, and to Elizabeth’s disappointment, he stayed there. How could she already miss being close to him?

‘Come on,’ he groaned, sitting back up. He took both her hands into his, and looked her dead in the eyes. _Ohgoodcoolgreatthankyou_ , she thought, _because I totally need that right now._ ‘I’m sorry, truly.’ 

‘I guess you’re forgiven, or whatever.’ She liked joking with George. Way more than she should. 

He stood up abruptly, letting go of Elizabeth’s hands. ‘Maybe we should start grabbing your stuff, it's getting late.’

‘Oh, right,’ she said, reminding herself that she was in fact moving into the apartment she currently sat in. Saying she had lost track of time was an understatement. He held out his hand so they could apparate together. 

‘Ready?’ 

She took his hand, pulling herself up. _Not even fucking close to it_ , she thought. And with that, they were off.


End file.
